


And All is Rust

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated ficlets starring Pharma and Tarn.</p><p>No archive warnings simply because I've used far too many to count. Warnings are given in each chapter header.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Final Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini Au - Pharma chose to transform rather than hit the ground.

Confusion runs through his electromagnetic field and I smile, a harsh thing, of victory and vengeance.

That was my last flight.

It was worth it.

Worth the feel of rust slowly lining my turbines as I searched for him.

Worth the scrape of gears and pistons as I changed back.

Worth the crack and rend of my thinner plating as I crashed into him.

Worth it all to see my rust smeared across his armour.

My vocaliser is rough, clogged with rust and he leans down to better hear my last words.

“Enjoy yourself. The virus is activated by transformation.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarn has a new pet that needs training.
> 
> Warnings: humiliation, nothing too graphic

I hook a finger into his new accessory, tugging him down as I drop to my knees, forcing him to follow. I keep the pressure on until his helm is pressed to the ground. “You will call me Master, do you understand that pet?” This close I can feel his energy field pulled tight to his armour like a shield. It flickers, defiance and resentment clear before resignation slowly sets in. I can almost see the working of his processor, logic and survival instincts warring against his pride and arrogance. I give him the time to think. To decide. To let him think over every option. To acknowledge that submission is in his best interests. _Wait._ His processor will be telling him. _Wait. Obey. Play along and wait for an opportunity to escape._ Pity I don't plan to give him that chance.

“Yes... Master.” Shame courses hot through his field and his frame stiffens slightly as he accepts the inevitable.

“Good pet.” I let go of his collar, fingers pressing against the back of his helm as he goes to lift it. “Stay.” His hands curl into fists where they are pressed against the floor. The polished silver of them standing out against the chipped paint on the rest of his plating. Yet he remains where he is as I rise to my feet, only his wings betraying his nervousness as I pace around his frame.

Still he is not afraid of me, well, he is, I can feel the edge of fear in his field, but it is not the all consuming fear that most mechs seem to fall to. It is the measured fear of one who knows they are outclassed, who knows they have lost, and yet still retain their dignity. Perhaps that is what drew me to him. That difference, that he didn't run from me, nor did he offer me anything to spare _his_ life. No, the first request had been for his hospital, for his patients.

“What are you?” He whimpers, the sound quickly cut off as he mutes his vocaliser to stop the rest of the sound. His plating rattles slightly, edges vibrating against each other and he shakes his helm. Unable or unwilling to answer me. “Tell me what you are.” I kneel before him again, reaching out to trace my fingers over his cheek. He turns his helm, pressing it into my hand, hiding his face. I let him, idly stroking over his frame with my other hand as I hum. The sound makes him whine as it cuts straight to his spark. I can feel him wavering. Pride at war with his new place in the universe.

Breaking a mech is easy. So many ways to destroy a mechs will until they are nothing more than a shell. Drones obey because that's what they've been taught to do unless they want to face the consequences. Yes, it is submission of a sort. But that is not what I want to do. I want his pride. I want him to be proud that he is mine. That will not be so easy. Molding a mech takes much longer.

He shivers again, and it would be all too easy to clamp my hand down, to bring pain to bear on his frame. I could force him to answer me through pain. Every mech has a point where they will speak. Yet what will that teach? It will teach him to hide his true emotions, to swallow his arrogance and tell me what I want to hear whether he believes what he is saying or not, because he knows the consequence if he does not.

If I wait, he will answer me without the need for that. Patience. I have lots of that. I can wait as long as I need to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What good is having a frag toy if you don't make use of it?
> 
> Warnings: Tarn, Kaon and Vos being themselves.

The Autobots clearly don't know what they're missing. If they did they'd have hunted us down long ago to get him back. Since they haven't, well, we have to get out credits worth out of our pet. If we're going to use our energon to keep him alive he better be paying for it somehow.

I hum softly, catching Kaon's attention as his helm tilts in my direction for a moment before returning to staring sightlessly at the jet between his thighs. One hand is resting on the back of the red helm, the other spread on the surface of the berth. Faint flickers of charge dance around his tesla coils as he shifts his hips, hand tightening on the helm.

I am pleased to see that our pet doesn't fight the harsh treatment as he gags slightly. Then again, it could just be that the spike in his mouth is the least of the jets worries right now.

Vos mutters something inaudible to me, whatever it is Pharma clearly understands it, or at least knows the translation as he spreads his legs further apart. A soft pat to his aft and the wings flicker faintly at the implied praise.

Vos' plating rattles eagerly as he lines himself up, sinking into the jets valve with a garbled series of exclamations and Kaon snickers slightly as he lifts his free hand from the berth to run his fingers over Vos' mask.

Pharma trembles between them both and I can see from the vibration of his armour that just holding still is a test of his fortitude. He's come a long way since I first started training him. He doesn't even wince as Vos settles his hands around the top edges of his wings to anchor himself in place.

I can feel heat building in my circuits as Vos and Kaon use him, the faint click of my panel opening lost amongst the crackle of static from Kaon and Vos' vernacular crooning. They make a good team, moving together with the ease of long familiarity until Pharma can do nothing but clutch at Kaon's thighs.

The wash of electricity and the very scent and taste of charge in the air leaves my engine purring as Kaon slumps back against the wall, his fingers still gripping the jet's helm as Vos collapses over the jets engines, clearly having been caught in the static that had snapped out from Kaon.

Vos pulls out slowly before rolling to one side of the berth, clearly not intending to go anywhere anytime soon as he crooks a finger at me. Kaon finally lets Pharma pull away from his spike and I am treated to the sight of the jet realising he has an audience and giving me a lust clouded gaze, his wings trembling as a faint whine escapes his vocaliser before he forcefully suppresses it.

“You know, you're evil.” I say to Kaon and Vos as I run my hand along my spike, watching the medic's optics drop to watch each slow movement.

Neither of them is at all repentant, in fact, I'd go as far as to say they both perk up, preening slightly. Vos mutters something and I chuckle, watching as all three of them shiver at the undertone in my voice.

“Poor little pet, they've been denying you your release have they?” I croon as I step forward, resting my hand on his helm and he leans into the caress, another shiver shaking his frame as his helm dips in a nod of agreement.

“Do you think you deserve to overload, hmmm?” I can feel his helm turn under my hand as he gives Kaon a quick glance, as if hoping he'll provide an answer so he doesn't have to choose. 

In the end he nods again, slowly, almost reluctantly as his wings dip as low as they can go before he ducks his helm, nudging at my spike before swiping his glossa over the top.

“Really?” I let my vocaliser catch on the question and he shudders, one hand lifting from the berth towards his chest. “You deserve what we say you deserve.”

His optics glance up at me for a moment, a faint hint of anger glinting before he damps down that last stubborn bit of pride and ducks his helm to my spike again. I hum softly, letting him use his recently acquired skills to show me how sorry he is for making such an assumption.

I stop him before he gets too carried away, I think perhaps we taught him a little too well. He gazes rather blearily at me as he is shifted around on the berth, ending up on his back, his helm practically in Vos' lap and his legs wrapped around my waist to avoid them hanging over the edge of the berth rather uncomfortably.

“Such a good pet, aren't you?” His hands clench in the mesh surface of the berth as he agrees with me, helm tilting to watch the finger tapping against one thigh and I know that he's trying hard not to move.

Poor little pet, he was so used to being in control, how it must chafe to hold himself back from ordering me to get on with it. His venting hitches as my finger skims over the entrance to his valve and my purr makes him arch of the berth as his hands both go to his chest at the sudden surge in pleasure I just caused. I have to stop my own snicker at the sound of Vos' cooling fans flickering back on and the aborted static sound from Kaon as I catch them too.

“Tell me you want me.” He stares blankly for a moment, until his processor catches up with my demand and his wings twitch.

“I want you.” I can see the fight over the next word, even now it's something he still finds hard to say, “Master.”

I hum softly, tracing the entrance to his valve, feeling his legs tighten around my frame. I can almost taste his shame as he forces himself to beg.

“I, please Master.” I hum again, dragging it out before sliding my finger into his valve and his entire frame trembles, a whine escaping his vocaliser when I don't move.

“You know the rules, I ask you to beg, you do so.” His optics flicker off for a moment as he gathers his shattered pride.

“Please frag me Master. Fill me until I scream for you.” I hum appreciatively at such words from the once arrogant jet.

“Better.” I rumble, sliding a second finger into him and he shivers at the stretch as his valve adjusts in preparation for being taken by a larger mech. “Keep going.”

Vos chuckles and I can see the moment Pharma remembers we aren't alone as his wings press into the berth and the look on his face can only be called pleading. I pointedly stop my ministrations and he whimpers, clearly getting the message.

“Please don't stop Master. Please, I need to overload.”

Kaon laughs too at that as he shifts around until he is sitting close enough that he can run his fingers over the nearest wing. “That's it pet, keep begging, like the little whore that you are.”

Such filthy things spilling from the uptight jets mouth, the hint of shame only sweetens it all as I press a third finger into him and his vocaliser descends into static for a long moment before he resets it. It cycles back up on a sob as the jet's cooling fans kick up another notch.

“Please, need your spike.” He says as he shifts his hips, trying to get more stimulation.

Kaon snickers, leaning in, “That's what you said earlier, such a needy jet aren't you?”

Dazed optics twist to look at Kaon as the charge builds in the medic again. It must be burning through him by now, being brought to the brink so often and then denied. I'll have to ask Vos to give me a memory of what they did in the time before I arrived to join them.

He nods frantically, whining slightly as I remove my fingers from his valve. He opens his mouth to clean my fingers as I present each one, and I reward his obedience by seating myself in his valve.

His chassis arches, a static laden scream buzzing from his vocaliser and I'm sure he would have tried to cling to me if Kaon hadn't firmly put his weight on the nearest wing to keep him grounded.

His cry turns into a pained whimper as he twists to try and free his now dented wing and I press down on the other one until he stills, only the rapidly choked back whimpers and the harsh venting giving him away.

“Doesn't that feel good pet?” I modulate my voice as I begin to move in small thrusts, smirking at the abrupt transition from pain to writhing in pleasure. It is so much fun to play with him like this, his sensors probably have trouble distinguishing pain and pleasure sometimes the way I can draw him from one to the other.

“Yes Master.” He gets out as he rocks into me, wordlessly urging me to speed up.

I growl, enjoying the way his valve tightens as his hands scrabble for a handhold, one snagging in the berth mesh, the other anchoring itself on Kaon's armour as he screams. I switch back to a hum and he shudders, too dazed to complain as I use him with enough force to leave dents on his hips where one hand is splayed, holding him in place.

I pull out before I overload, letting my transfluid splatter across his frame and he refocuses on me, a puzzled look crossing his face as his processor catches up. “Master?”

I grin, patting his helm before lowering a hand to his spike and the inhibitor on it. He stiffens at the touch, frame trembling and I pull away, leaving it in place. “I'll be back later,” I promise, laughing at his disbelieving look and the utter frustration and humiliation I can read in the set of his wings. “Don't worry, I'm sure Kaon and Vos will keep you occupied again.”


	4. Kink bingo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kink bingo + 1 sentence fic challenge. Accepted.
> 
> List of kinks used: Power issues, Physical Imperfections, Medical Scenarios, Noise, Topping from the bottom, Masks, Intoxication/Altered states, Baths, Deep throating, Forced orgasm, Predator/Prey, Gags, Restraints: full body, Collars, Blindfolds, Threesomes, Whips, Cuffs, Denied orgasm, Dildos, Masochism, Body modification, Spanking, Electric play, Sensory enhancement, Sex in a public place, Sex outdoors, Ropework, Humiliation, Discipline or punishment, Bestiality, Branding, Submission.

**Prisoner**  
He is there when I wake, watching as I realise that deactivation is not my fate, at least, not anytime soon.

 **Request**  
He wants, he asks, I can't, I won't, my thoughts loop until I forcefully shut down the processing threads, leaving only one; that I will not sink to offering myself like that.

 **Isolation**  
Walls close in, the room seems smaller all the time, pressing against my plating, pushing, bending, breaking.

 **Truth**  
There is no way out, I've tried, Primus I've tried, yet the door is barred and he is always watching, just waiting.

 **Surrender**  
His hand is heavy on my helm, I ache to shake it off yet I only stare at the floor and shudder at his touch.

 **oral fixation**  
It is no choice at all that he gives me, to return to my cell that I can barely fit in when my wings are spread, no, not a choice I think as I open my mouth to let him in.

 **Physical Imperfections**  
His electromagnetic field flares with lust as his hand grazes across my wrist and I ruthlessly suppress my distaste before it enters my field, he said he will get me new hands if I perform well enough.

 **Medical Scenarios**  
My new hands clench as he pats one of my thighs before returning to his examination of my valve, he makes for a very unprofessional doctor.

 **Power issues**  
Tarn finishes up his call, shutting down the connection before he stretches out, one hand curving around my helm to keep me still as he flexes his hips and I wish Megatron could have kept him a while longer, let me bring him closer to the edge before the call ended.

 **Noise**  
He likes it when I scream, when I let him know that I hate him and want him, when yes and no start to mean the same thing, when I beg because it is him that I need.

**Topping from the bottom**  
Hands on my hips guide me in a rough rhythm, at the speed he wants, whatever he desires, even on his back he is still in control. 

**Masks**  
It is cold and smooth beneath my mouth as I kiss it, yet I think I prefer it like that, at least with his mask I can't see the amusement I know he is feeling. 

**Intoxication/Altered states**  
Colours swirl, dancing across my vision as heat burns through my chassis and I am free, flying, falling, until he catches me and the flames burn fiercer. 

**Baths**  
The oil is hotter than I like, working it's way into my joints, yet it is the least of my discomfort as my chest scrapes across the floor and fingers curl around the edges of my wings as every thrust of his frame threatens to force me out of the bath. 

**Deep throating**  
Each thrust presses against my fuel intake and I shudder, fighting against the hands that are holding me in place, against the sinfully beautiful voice that is telling me to let go, to enjoy it. 

**Forced orgasm**  
A frame isn't meant to continuously channel so much energy, there should be blocks that stop it before it reaches dangerous levels, but his voice, his tone, his command over-rides them all, bypassing all the coding that could help, until it feels like he is directly caressing my spark. 

**Predator/Prey**  
I can already feel his hands on my wings, twisting, pressing, touching, claiming, and that is even before he has found me. 

**Gags**  
It is hard to beg without a vocaliser, the inhibitor buzzes as I try anyway, my helm pressed against his foot, wings folded as close to my body as possible, my voiceless 'please' echoing through my energy field. 

**Restraints: full body**  
I tug at the cuffs and chains again, futile I know, but what else can I do as my joints protest the unnatural position I am in as I glare at the nearest table and the keycard that I know is lying on top, just out of reach. 

**Collars**  
He had grinned as he presented it to me, soft woven metal with a small silver tag, my designation inscribed in ornate glyphs, of course the other side is less to my liking, I am no mechs property, least of all Tarns.

 **Blindfolds**  
Darkness is slowly becoming my friend, wrapped in its embrace I can allow myself to imagine the frame I am lying with is one of my own choosing.

 **Threesomes**  
Even here they obey Tarn, the two frames surrounding me moving where he directs.

 **Whips**  
The crackle of energy excites him, anticipation colouring his field as as he tests each one, his armour ripples with delight before he turns back to me.

 **Cuffs**  
Paint flakes away as I idly run my fingers around my wrist, the constant scrape and pull of shackles beginning to show.

 **Denied orgasm**  
His overload crackles around his frame and I whine , pushing my frame upwards, wanting the release only he can give as his voice holds my spark hostage.

 **Dildos**  
It takes effort not to close my panel when he pulls the toy out of subspace, I know I'm not allowed to do that until it is seated deep inside my valve.

 **Masochism**  
I never welcomed pain, not until he wove his voice into my spark and bound pleasure with the pain his hands could give.

 **Body modification**  
Each step reminds me of the newest change to my frame, fine chain, more decorative than useful, chiming against my wings.

 **Spanking**  
I can do little as his hand slaps against my aft, contact sensors protesting against the force as I struggle against the hand clamped across the back of my neck.

 **Electric play**  
Charge rolls across my plating, flashing over my exposed spark chamber and Tarn laughs as I press backwards against my bonds, seeking more contact with Kaon and the energy which I can't help but need.

 **Sensory overload or enhancement**  
Even the slightest touch makes me arch into the contact and in my own mind I curse Tarn for changing the access codes for my sensor parameters so that I can't dial them back down.

 **Sex in a public place**  
Datapads are pushed aside as he presses me down across his desk and I am acutely aware of the open door.

 **Mirrors**  
Optics forwards, I keep having to remind myself, yet I don't want to look, don't want to see myself being used like this, nor do I want to see him and be reminded where I am.

 **Sex outdoors**  
When he said we were going to view some scenery I should have known it would mean I get to see an alien soil in great detail as he pushes my helm down, his other arm wrapped tightly around my waist as he uses me.

 **Silence**  
The sound of our movement is loud in the silence, yet that is what Vos prefers unless I somehow suddenly learn to croon sweet nothings in Primal Vernacular.

**Ropework**  
Once it was hard to hold still while he looped each coil around my frame, a slow torture as he drew it out to see if I would snap; now it is routine, a moment of peace where I am not expected to do anything but be still, each twist and pull of the metallic ropes letting me relax. 

**Humiliation**  
Humiliation burns as Tesarus absently pets me as he hands in his report, once I would have shown it clearly, now I barely twitch, there's not much left any more that can make me cringe. 

**Discipline or punishment**  
He shakes his helm and I cringe as he clicks, flicking his fingers at the cabinet and I crawl over, ducking my helm as I wait for him to choose what he wishes to punish me with today. 

**Bestiality**  
A cold snout pushes against my side and I can't help the shudder of relief as the sparkeater is pulled away, Tarn chuckling as he pats my helm and I relax, but I still dread the day when he carries through on his threat and doesn't stop the thing.

**Branding**  
I didn't realise what he planned until it was done, deep purple against my white wings, pleasure took away the pain, or perhaps it was the pain which tipped me into overload, I can't tell any more and I'm not sure I care. 

**Submission**  
Is this what I am now, a whore that bends over when he snaps his fingers, a pet that comes running when he calls, a slave that submits and takes whatever it is given? 


	5. What is unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Aid wonders how his Boss managed to injure himself while out flying.
> 
> Warnings: none

“You do have some talent.” First Aid isn't sure if that is a compliment or an insult as he repairs a few more wires in the mangled wing currently attached to his superior. “Uhhm, thanks,” he settles for the easy answer. “So how did you come to crumple a wing?”

Pharma shrugs, the movement jostling the wing in question and metal creaks alarmingly as First Aid scrambles to support it before the hinges can give way completely.

“I misjudged how close I was to the ground.” That didn't sound like his boss at all, Chief-medic-always-in-control-Pharma.

It isn't however his place to judge when and for how long the older medic goes out flying. If he wants to run his energy down flying until he manages to crash that is his problem.

After all, First Aid had mentioned the rumours of the Decepticon Justice Division being on planet and that Pharma probably shouldn't go flying for a while. His opinion and recommendation had got him nothing but a bad tempered jet for almost a full cycle.

“Try and be more careful,” the younger medic finally says, trying not to make it into an accusation.

Pharma just flicks his still in one piece wing in acknowledgement as First Aid works on the hinge. Well, at least a mildly annoyed jet is better than being ignored or shouted at.


End file.
